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"Is it poison?" she asked. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. ” “Relaxation, perhaps. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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